The Beginning of the End: The 80th Hunger Games
by Grammar Hammer13
Summary: This is an *SYOT*. I do not own the Hunger Games, nor the characters. Suzanne Collins owns the Hunger Games and YOU, yes YOU own the characters. There will be endless twists and turns for your tribute to go through, so please submit, and may the odds be ever in your favor.
1. SYOT Form

Hello, I am Grammar Hammer13, as you can assume from my name I am all for grammar. This is an SYOT where twenty-four tributes will be thrown into the arena to fight to the death. Please, leave an accurate description of your tribute so I can represent them as best I can. Also, please **PM** me the forms, that way if you or I have any further questions we can easily communicate. Also, please submit bloodbaths, I don't want to have to choose them myself.

Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!

* * *

Name:

Age:

District:

Description of looks(give me all the details, not just one word descriptions):

Personality (see above rules):

Family:

History:

Reaping outfit (Please, be as descriptive as you can):

Reaped/Volunteered:

Reason For Volunteering:

Reaction To Being Reaped:

Weapons:

Strategy for Interview:

Strategy for Arena:

Anything I Missed:


	2. PrequelUpdated Tribute List

Sergio La' Fonte watched his head gamemakers with a keen eye. Although the children for the games had yet to be reaped creating the games took time—most of his time. Creating the games is the reason his wife left him a few years ago. She said it "worried" her how much of his time was consumed by his profession. She called it an "unhealthy obsession".

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. They were a quite normal pair of eyes, considering he was from the Capitol. Brown, just plain, brown. He was a very...simple man, even though he had grown up in the Capitol. His light brown hair was always pulled back in a messy ponytail, his glasses always perched on the end of his nose, his clothes dressy casual, although, they were always rumpled because he didn't have time to iron them. He didn't care how he looked, the image he portrayed with the games was enough.

But, back to his ex-wife. Jacara didn't understand his dreams involving the games. Ever since he was little—for as long as he could remember—Sergio had wanted to design the games. He wanted—no—he _longed_ to be a man behind the scenes of the games. He would have reached his goal earlier, too, if it weren't for Seneca Crane. The fool stood in the way of Sergio's dreams. Well, let's just say that thanks to Sergio the previous gamemaker didn't live to see past the seventy-sixth Hunger Games.

Sergio smiled to himself, then turned to a scrawny little man (built much like himself) who had been set to the daunting task of creating the landscape for the arena. "You," Sergio snapped, "what have you come up with."

"L-l-look, sir." The green haired man said.

Sergio gritted his teeth. That stutter the man possessed was most obnoxious thing. He was about to yell at the man for it, but his eyes caught the arena terrain. His lips curled back into a smile, "perfect."

**Here is the updated tribute list. You are allowed a boy, a girl, and a bloodbath. It is first come firs t serve. How about the prequel? Did you like it? Give me your thoughts. What would you like to see in the arena? **

District One: Luxury Items

Girl:

Boy:

District Two: Masonry

Girl:

Boy:

District Three: Electronics

Girl:

Boy: Sawyer Coleman, Girlreadsalot

District Four: Fishing

Girl:

Boy:

District Five: Power

Girl:

Boy:

District Six: Transportation

Girl:

Boy:

District Seven: Lumber and Paper

Girl:

Boy:

District Eight: Textiles

Girl:

Boy:

District Nine: Grain

Girl:

Boy:

District Ten: Livestock

Girl: Bandit Lee Highland, Girlreadsalot

Boy:

District Eleven: Agriculture

Girl:

Boy:

District Twelve: Coal

Girl:

Boy:


	3. Wild Horses Also Updated Tribute List

**Hi, guys! This is the updated character list, don't forget to submit a bloodbath! I will choose the characters for it if I have to and I don't want to do that. Also, the Reapings will not go in numerical order with the districts. They will go in the order I receive them, so this chapter is Bandit Lee's reaping, the next will be Coralie, the Ryan Mellark, then Kimberly Hawthorn. Also, _PM_ me the tributes please! Also, enjoy!**

District One: Luxury Items

Girl:

Boy:

District Two: Masonry

Girl:

Boy:

District Three: Electronics

Girl:

Boy: Sawyer Coleman

District Four: Fishing

Girl: Coralie

Boy:

District Five: Power

Girl: Coralie Aderly

Boy:

District Six: Transportation

Girl:

Boy:

District Seven: Lumber and Paper

Girl:

Boy:

District Eight: Textiles

Girl:

Boy:

District Nine: Grain

Girl:

Boy:

District Ten: Livestock

Girl: Bandit Lee Highland

Boy:

District Eleven: Agriculture

Girl:

Boy:

District Twelve: Coal

Girl: Kimberly Hawthorne

Boy: Ryan Mellark

* * *

The sun rose over the mountains of District Ten a blurring palate of pinks, oranges, reds, and the indigo streaked through it like paint left on an artist's paint palette. The air was so cold Bandit Lee Highland could see her breath puffing out of her mouth like the smokestack on the freight train that rolled through District Ten once a year.

She shuddered and zipped her brown leather jacket up a little farther. That was what she hated about the mornings; they were bitter cold, followed by the abrupt and sudden heat of the day.

Her gruella colored Quarter Horse, Casanova snorted from beneath her. The cold didn't affect him nearly as much as it did her; he had a fur coat to keep him warm.

"I know, Buddy." She said reaching down and stroking his steel colored coat. "You have an easy day today. It's reaping day." _**Then**__ it's back to work_. She thought.

The work never ended on High Bar farm. It sounded just like the name; her father set the bar high.

Every morning before the sun was shining Bandit Lee, her two older brothers Louis and Flynt, and her younger sister, Dale were dressed and in the barn. They were on their horses and out in the fields before the sun came up.

Today, they were sorting the calves from their mothers so they could be branded and ready to be sold on the market when they matured.

Casanova's ears flicked forward and Bandit felt his body tense. Then she heard the yelling.

She clucked her tongue to get Casanova to break into a canter.

The gelding broke into a canter, staying sure-footed as he navigated the rocky slope. He loped off the bluff and into the field, which had a fire in the center and the sun for a light source.

Her older brother, Flynt (he was only a year older than her, but a year younger than Louis) was wrestling with a Lowline Angus calf. "Hold him, Louis!" Flynt grunted as he struggled to tie three of the calf's legs together, so it wouldn't get up.

"With this brandin' iron in my hand?" Louis demanded, "I don't want to become property of the High Bar Ranch!"

"Louis just do it!" Dale shouted, her black horse, Gambler looked like a shadow in the low light.

Before Bandit could step in to help, Flynt toppled over backwards and the balking calf started to trot toward the herd.

Bandit knew Dale wouldn't be able to hold back the rest of the herd and keep the calf from being lost at the same time, so she pushed Casanova faster and built a loop in her rope. She managed to catch the calf before it crossed into the herd. She dallied her rope and trotted the calf toward her brothers.

"Are you alright?" She asked Flynt, her eyes full of concern.

Flynt pushed his overly long brown hair out of his face; blood ran in thick rivulets down his face from a cut above his brow. He wiped the blood out of his light blue eyes, "Yeah." He said. He flanked the calf and tied three of its legs together so it couldn't get back up.

"Come do your job." Flynt snapped at his older brother, blood once again dripping down his face, soaking the collar of his shirt.

Louis's golden hair glinted in the sun, which was now in the clear morning sky. His green eyes flickered to his younger brother as he swung the branding iron as he walked. "Ma's going to be mad that you stained your shirt."

Flynt gave gritted his teeth and pinned the calf's neck down, so it wouldn't thrash again. He didn't reply though, he was one of the quieter members of the family.

After the calf was successfully branded Louis took Bandit's rope off its neck and let her coil it back up. "Where were you, Bandit Lee?" He asked her.

"I was helping Missy foal, if you _need_ to know." She said pinning her older brother with a look before dismounting her horse and walking over to Flynt.

Bandit wasn't exactly a spitfire, like her younger sister. She stood up for what she believed in and didn't let anybody push her around. Other than that she didn't really have much to say.

"Let me see your face." She told Flynt.

Flynt eyed her hands warily, "did you wash up? You're not touching this unless you did."

"Yes."

This seemed to satisfy him because he pushed his shoulder-length light brown hair out of his face and let her look at it. When Bandit poked it he sucked air through his teeth.

"You're going to need to get sewed up." She told him quietly.

"I figured as much." He said.

She went to her saddle and pulled out her bundle, and then she took out a ratty t-shirt and ripped off the sleeve. "Press this on your forehead and get home so mom can patch you up."

Flynt did as he was told and walked over to his bay mare and climbed on, then briskly trotted up the path Bandit just came from.

"Are we going to try to finish up with this herd before the reaping?" She asked Louis.

He gave her an "are you kidding me?" look. "You saw how that just went. We need at least four people to get it done." He turned to Dale and waved his hand to let her know to let the herd go.

"Where is dad?" Bandit asked.

"He went to the livestock auction. He's going to try to bring home a bull or two."

"What kind?"

"The ridin' kind."

Bandit's face twisted into a mask of confusion. "For what? They aren't very good for breeding…or eating for that matter. They're too tough."

"For the rodeo that's filmed for the Capitol. We're one of the livestock contractors."

Right, the District Ten rodeo, it was one of the Capitol's favorite sources of entertainment—next to the Hunger Games—that is.

"Did ya'll forget it's Reapin' day?" Dale demanded, fixing the two of them with icy green eyes.

"No." Bandit muttered.

"I'm glad I'm eighteen." Louis said mounting his sorrel and white paint gelding.

"Aren't you lucky?" Dale snapped. She then, turned Gambler and trotted up the path, her chin-length brown hair bobbing with every step.

"She's in a bad mood."

Bandit nodded as she followed her oldest brother up the path toward the barn.

"Bandit Lee sit down and have some breakfast." Lynette Highland demanded from where she was crouched, stitching up Flynt's face.

"Yes ma'am." She said. Bandit sat down and put some homemade strawberry jam on a biscuit. She was glad that her family was one of the wealthier families in District Ten; they could afford luxuries others couldn't.

Dale came stomping down the stairs in her light green sundress and cowboy boots…spurs and all. Her green eyes flashed, "I am _not_ wearin' this stupid thing!"

Lynette's blue eyes flicked to her daughter's. "Why? You look beautiful!"

Dale set her jaw stubbornly, a look that signaled for the rest of the family to shelter themselves

"Dale Cashmere Highland!" Bandit's mom shouted bringing a wooden spoon down onto the table mere centimeters from Louis's fingers, who rocked his chair backwards so fast he would have tipped over if Bandit hadn't reached out and grabbed it.

"There are people all over Panem who don't have anything nearly as beautiful not to mention _expensive_. You be grateful for what your father paid for and you wear it, and if I hear one more peep out of you, you won't be touching a single colt or filly until after the next roundup." She narrowed her blue eyes at her daughter. "Do you understand?"

Dale narrowed her eyes right back, calculating the time until the next livestock roundup. She crossed her arms across her petite frame and looked at the floor. She mumbled, "don't call me Cashmere."

Cashmere was Dale's middle name; she wasn't very fond of it. But, her mother, originating from District One absolutely loved the name.

"Bandit, Flynt, go get dressed."

"Yes ma'am." They mumbled in unison before pushing in their chairs and running upstairs to their bedrooms.

Bandit walked with Flynt and Dale to the town square in the summer heat. She felt absolutely naked in the light yellow and dark brown paisley halter sundress. She was a girl used to wearing jeans and t-shirts, playing in the dirt, and being on the back of a horse.

It was strange to her how her straight blonde hair felt so smooth and soft as it fell to the small of her back, her eyelashes felt heavy with mascara and her lips slimy with lip gloss.

She and Dale split off from Flynt after a heartfelt hug and stood in line to get their blood drawn. The prick on her finger was nothing compared to injuries she'd gotten in the past so she let them take her blood so she could move on. But, she couldn't help but notice the nasty look Dale gave the woman who pricked her with the pin.

Bandit elbowed Dale.

"What?" The short girl demanded glaring up at her much taller sister.

"That woman was just doing her job, don't be so mean. I know mom and dad raised you better than that."

"Whatever." Dale muttered before ducking into the line to stand with her age group, which was fourteen.

Bandit shook her blonde head and moved to stand with her age group also. She was waiting for the District Ten escort, Kimi Landon to start her familiar spiel when she felt unease. She looked to her right to see the angry freckled face and brown eyes of Davey-Jo Westmire glaring up at her.

"Oh, hi Davey-Jo." Bandit said.

"Hi Bandit Lee." She sneered. Davey-Jo hadn't forgiven Bandit for winning the All Around Junior Cowgirl buckle at the rodeo last year. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

"You too." She replied narrowing her blue eyes back.

Kimi Landon appeared on stage, her black hair pulled back in a messy, yet professional bun. She must have been sweating to death in her fancy suit, yet she looked as young and as calm as ever.

"Hello everybody," she said into the microphone. Her sweet and gentle voice reverberated through the speakers. "Welcome to the eightieth annual Hunger Games." She smiled sweetly. "Before the reaping starts we have a video from the Capitol."

Bandit stared at the video from the Capitol, although she'd seen it a hundred times. Anything to keep herself from looking at Davey-Jo.

After the video stopped playing Kimi said, "now for the Reapings. The female tribute for District Ten is," She dug her hand into the bowl and pulled out a white paper slip. She meticulously unfolded it in her tan hands and then read the name, "Bandit Lee Highland."

Bandit felt the world look at her, she wasn't exactly one of the most discreet people in District Ten. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, and then walked toward the stage, her head held high. She was scared to death, but her father's voice rang in her ears, over and over. "When things seem like they're at their worst don't panic, you'll only make it worse. Keep your head and everything will work out fine".

_Keep your head_. She kept chanting to herself as she mounted the stage steps. _Keep your head_.

Kimi met her gaze, there was a certain sadness held in those kind brown eyes, like she felt sympathy for Bandit, but wouldn't show it. She then reached into the bowl holding the names of the teenage boys from District Ten. "The male tribute for District Ten is…"

* * *

**Who will the District Ten male tribute be? He can be yours! The spot is open. Also, I consider flames constructive criticism, but kind reviews would be appreciated.**


	4. District Three Male Reaping & List

**Okay, guys. I still need more tributes, so send as many in as you'd like. I want this to be about YOUR tributes, not tributes I had to make up. So, here's the list. **

District One: Luxury Items

Girl:

Boy:

District Two: Masonry

Girl:

Boy:

District Three: Electronics

Girl:

Boy: Sawyer Coleman

District Four: Fishing

Girl: Coralie Aderly

Boy:

District Five: Power

Girl:

Boy:

District Six: Transportation

Girl:

Boy:

District Seven: Lumber and Paper

Girl:

Boy:

District Eight: Textiles

Girl:

Boy:

District Nine: Grain

Girl:

Boy:

District Ten: Livestock

Girl: Bandit Lee Highland

Boy:

District Eleven: Agriculture

Girl:

Boy:

District Twelve: Coal

Girl: Kimberly Hawthorne

Boy: Ryan Mellark

* * *

"What do you think, Mr. Coleman?" Berta Cooper's voice said, breaking through his day dreaming daze.

He shook his blonde head to clear his thoughts, "uh, sure." He said, hoping that was an acceptable answer.

Berta scowled at him, still clearly angry that he stole her vice CEO position for the electronics company. Her brown eyes were harsh and her tone angry when she said, "we asked if we should use the grant to purchase a new conveyer belt for Sector B or if we should replace the main riveter in Sector A."

He sat back in his comfortable office chair, "buy a new conveyer belt."

Berta gaped at him, her face a mask of shock, clearly that was not the choice she wanted. "But—"

"Listen, Berta." He said to the board member who didn't look like her name sounded. She was in her late twenties, with long, soft, brown hair that was currently pulled back into a bun, not a wrinkle or crease on her youthful face. He gave her his charming grin, "I can promise you I'm _great_ with my hands."

The color rose on Berta's ivory colored checks and she chewed her lip. "Yeah?"

"Yes." He assured her. "I'll have that riveter fixed in no time at all."

"You swear?"

"I swear." He grinned, shooting her a wink, his green eyes twinkling. He felt her eyes linger on him for a moment longer than they should have, but that was okay. His charm usually got him what he wanted. He turned back to the rest of the board, "what else?"

"The meeting is adjourned, Mr. Coleman." The Ancient head CEO said. "It's Reaping day."

Sawyer sat up in his chair, the realization shocking him like an electric current. "This was a fantastic meeting," he said quickly shaking each of the gnarled hands that were held out to him as he spoke rapidly, "we got a lot accomplished, I'll fix the riveter, new conveyor belt, blah, blah, blah. But now, I have to go I'm going to be late."

His long legs carried him down the hall of the top floor of the electronics company, he threw the door open that led through the factory and scrambled down the steel stairs. He grabbed a ratchet off a worker's toolbox and hurtled a conveyer belt, slid around corners (looking quite comical in his navy business suit), and ducked under two workers carrying a steel beam. He screeched to a halt in front of the riveter in Sector B before quickly diagnosing the problem.

He tightened a few bolts, then reached inside and adjusted a few wires and the machine worked like a charm. He walked briskly toward the exit, setting the wrench back on the toolbox where he found it.

* * *

When he got home his mother wasn't furious at his tardiness; she never was. She greeted her oldest son with a hug, and then turned her attention back to her sewing. "Make sure Sebastian is ready for the Reaping." She told him.

"Okay." He replied as he hurried up the stairs. He went to his bedroom, it wasn't big, it was fairly small for his size, but it was his room. It had been since he was born.

Their house wasn't large or fancy like the other rich families in District Three. It was small, with four bedrooms and a warm and cozy feel that came with it the moment you crossed the threshold.

No matter how many times he experienced it Sawyer still was amazed how home-like his mother managed to keep the house after his father died. His father had been a peacekeeper and was shot in a riot five years ago in District Eleven. As a result, his mom had managed to pour all of her love into her children and their house.

He dug through his closet, pulling out a purple button-down shirt, and a white, black, and grey sweater-vest. He changed out of his navy suit (something Mr. Whatts, who was his boss required) and put on the sweater-vest.

He moved down the hall and went to the bathroom and made an attempt to smooth down his unruly hair. No matter how hard he tried the sandy tufts always managed to spring up again. It had given Berta something to complain about a year ago after he got promoted, but she stopped bothering with that aspect of Sawyer's appearance a long time ago.

He went down the hall and pounded on his brother's door, "Sebastian, are you dressed for the Reaping?"

Sebastian's door sprung open, his silvery grey shirt fitting him perfectly, and looking like an echo of Sawyer when he was younger. "I need help with my tie." He said.

Sawyer knelt so he could help his younger brother adjust the tie. Have a six-five frame wasn't easy. With the skill of many days practiced, the oldest Coleman child made a knot with the tie, and then adjusted it on his younger brother's throat. "There you go." He said straightening up again.

"Are you ready for the Reaping, short stuff?" Sawyer asked fluffing up his brother's thick blonde hair.

"I guess." Sebastian said. He sounded miserable, and looked that way too. His blue eyes were cast down to the wooden floor of the hallway.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want to be picked."

"You aren't going to be picked." Sawyer assured him. "You're only twelve and we've never had to sign up for tesserae."

Sebastian looked up at him with watery eyes, "you think so?"

"I know so." He assured his brother as he smiled down on him. He ruffled his hair again and said, "Let's go."  
He and Sebastian were headed out the front gate when his little sister, Sandra came running up behind him. "Sawyer!" She yelled, holding out her hands.

He bent down and picked her up. Sandra was only seven, and her light frame was no test for Sawyer's strength. "What's going on Sandy Sue?" He asked.

"Mom and I are coming to watch the Reaping." She replied, her green eyes meeting his. "I wanna walk with you."

"Okay." He said as he set her down.

As the family of four walked to the Reaping Sawyer let his little sister play with his hands. She was awestruck by their size, and fascinated with the scars that ran over them, from working in the electronics factory since he was twelve.

When his father died Sawyer's family needed money. They had been starving to death, because their only source of income in the house was gone. He had been walking past the massive factory when a worker asked him to come inside. They needed somebody with smaller hands to clear the jams out of the machines. It was dangerous work, one that almost cost Sawyer his fingers more than once, but he did it because he got decent wages.

As he got older he started getting bigger, and his hands wouldn't fit into the machines anymore. He was put onto the assembly line, putting together the Capitol's convenient devices. In his spare time Sawyer would dig through the scrap bins and find pieces of junk that could still be functional with the correct tweaking. He spent his lunch breaks inventing new things, and fixing the old.

One day Mr. Whatts was doing observations when he caught Sawyer tinkering. "What do you have there, son?" The old man asked.

Sawyer's face flushed, "it's just something I was making." He mumbled, trying to shove the device in his pocket.

"No, no. Let me see it." Whatts held out his hand expectantly.

The boy dropped the device into the CEO's palm. "It's supposed to be a camera that hovers and thinks on its own."

The old man studied through his thick prescription glasses. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen." He mumbled.

"Where would you use such a device?"

"Well, maybe in stores in the Capitol, or the Hunger Games." The blonde suggested, his green eyes ashamed to meet his boss's face.

Mr. Whatt's face lit up. "That's an excellent idea. Why don't you come have a chat with me, Mr. Coleman? I have a proposition for you.

That was the day he had gotten promoted to Vice CEO and head designer at the Giga Whatts' Factory of Electronics.

They had reached town square and Sawyer let go of Sandra's hand and said, "Come on Sebastian, we have to go get our blood taken."

"Will it hurt?" His little brother asked, eyeing him reproachfully.

"Nah." Sawyer said, "It feels like a bee sting." He let the woman draw his blood, and he gave her a wink and a smile.

While walking toward the seventeen year-old section he saw a familiar strawberry blonde girl, talking with her friends. She was wearing a leather mini-skirt and a sexy tube top. He walked over to her, "Hello, Ciara." He said smiling at her, giving her all of his charm. "How are you?"

Ciara blushed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. She sized him up with her hazel eyes and gave a flirtatious smirk, "I'm great…now that _you're_ here."

He returned it, "Great." Her friends giggled as he leaned close to her. He whispered in her ear, "After the Reaping do you want to come back to my place? My mom is taking my brother and sister to my grandma's house. It will just be us for a while."

She smiled at him and leaned toward him, "I'd _love_ to."

He winked a green eye at her. "Perfect. See you then." He moved to go to his section, grinning with satisfaction from the squeals of delight from Ciara's friends as she told them the news.

There was hardly a situation where Sawyer's charm wouldn't get him what he wanted. He knew the girls found him attractive, and he knew that all he had to do was smile and whisper words into their ears and they'd be game for whatever he wanted.

Ciara and Sawyer had fooled around before, it was just hooking up. It wasn't anything exclusive. She knew that he was a hot commodity in District Three, so having an actual relationship wasn't possible.

He daydreamed through the entire video from the Capitol and the entire first girl tribute He knew he wasn't going to be picked. His name was only in there five times, whereas other boys his age had theirs in the pot over thirty times.

The Escort for District Three, Jaxon MacArthur said, "Now, for the boy tributes." He reached into the glass bowl and picked a slip off the top. "The District Three tribute is…Sawyer Coleman!"

Sawyer blinked at the sound of his name. Then he started to feel sick. He was wrong, this was the one situation he couldn't charm himself out of. Nobody would volunteer for him, because a lot of the boys in District Three weren't too fond of him.

A rough peacekeeper grabbed him by the arm and hauled him through the crowd.

Sawyer came to his senses and wrenched his arm free. When the peacekeeper reached for him again he pulled his arm out of the way. "I walk by myself!" He snapped and headed up to the stage.

He felt a sinking feeling in his gut. It didn't look like he'd be hooking up with Ciara anytime soon.


	5. District Four: Coralie Alderly

Coralie Alderly woke up just before the sun, where the sky was a light grey above an even darker grey ocean. She stared at herself in the mirror with her sea-green eyes before pulling her hip-length blonde (with a little bit of brown mixed in) hair into a bun. She reasoned that her shorts and tank top were reasonable enough for a morning run along the beach.

She silently slipped down the stairs in her house, lightly jumping over the third step from the bottom, to avoid an obnoxious squeaking that would have surely woken her older sister, Marina, who would have been far from pleased. Then, she crossed the threshold into the kitchen and slipped out of the front door, careful not to let it slam behind her.

Without her shoes she jogged down the wooden steps and onto the sand. She instantly fell into a familiar rhythm, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. Each step she took left a footprint in the damp sand. She was headed up to Keppel's Cape, a rocky section of the beach that was a hot hangout for her and her few friends.

When she reached the cape she had managed to gain a light sheen of sweat across her skin, the mild ocean breeze gave her goose bumps on her arms. She navigated the familiar, rocky, and dangerous path with ease. She probably could have done it in her sleep.

When she reached the top she smiled, revealing the slight gap in her front teeth. Her best friend, Cale, was sitting on a rock that had been smoothed out due to the roaring waves crashing against it during storms.

His slim frame was facing away from her, his shaggy black hair was blowing in the ocean breeze, his right arm wrapped around the waist of his girlfriend, Claire. "You're late." He called back to her without looking at her.

She walked up behind him and pushed him off his perch, "you beat me here _one time_."

He narrowed his blue eyes at her and hopped up lithely, a move he learned from training. Coralie knew that much because they had trained at the same time since she was eleven.

"I hate that there isn't training today." Coralie admitted, her eyes drawn to the sun as it rose on the horizon, turning the inky water into a pastel of colors.

Claire turned around, her dark blue eyes narrowed at Coralie. "Why do you to like to train so much? It's just a gym full of sweaty guys and a few…_girls_." She said the word "girls" like it was poisoned.

Coralie felt her rage ignite. She put her hands on her hips and took a few slow, menacing steps toward the brunette. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?" She demanded.

"I'm just saying you're too fascinated with slaughtering people. It's grotesque."

Coralie crouched, never taking her blue-green eyes off Claire. She felt a familiar crevice in the rock and discreetly took out what was hidden there and rose once more. "Is it too much to ask for a girl to bring pride to District Four?" She asked, her eyes flashing like lighting over the ocean during a storm.

Cale's face darkened and he shot Coralie a look telling her not to get too carried away. Her temper caused her to do that at times.

She didn't acknowledge that she had seen it. "There hasn't been girl victor from here since before Finnick Odair won the games. Not to mention," She extended her wrist, something silver flashing from her hand, and landing with a _thunk _in dried out driftwood Claire had been using as an armrest. "I can do _that_."

Claire looked to her black sleeve, which had been securely fastened to the log by Coralie's throwing knife. Her blue eyes stared at Coralie with fear.

Coralie causally walked to the log and pulled he knife out, inspecting the blade with keen interest.

"You're a freak." Claire mumbled, her lips barely moving, her face held the pallor of a dead man.

Coralie grinned at her and lightly caressed the blade against Claire's cheek. "Thank you. But, I'm not a freak. You are just afraid of me."

Claire rose, pressing her hand against her tan face. She inspected it, seemingly surprised that it didn't come away bloody. "You're right." She began to back away. She turned to Cale, "you have to decide what you want. I won't be your girlfriend if you're hanging out with this-this psycho!" She turned on her heels and scrambled off the rocks as fast as her body would take her.

Cale fixed Coralie with a flat gaze. "Well," he sighed, "There goes another one."

Coralie grinned lightly and sat down on the rock next to him. She basked in his familiarity as she twisted the deadly blade through her fingers. Cale was her best—and only—friend. He was the only person she fully trusted and she would go to the ends of the earth to protect him, despite the fact he was two years older than her.

"I remember when you got these." He said as two of his long fingers traced two of the scars that ran down her left bicep.

She smiled gently at him, remembering. "Yeah, they thought I'd loose the use of my left arm. Finnick wanted me to choose another weapon, but my heart was set on the knives."

They sat and listened to the waves crashing against the rocks below them and the seagulls crying overhead.

"Can I ask you something?"

Coralie met his gaze suspiciously. "Yes."

"Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

Cale rested his arms on his knees, "Every girlfriend I get, you always scare them off. Are you jealous? Be honest."

Coralie wouldn't admit it, but she was. It felt like every girl Cale got close to was trying to steal her best friend. She couldn't have that. "You're my only friend." She mumbled.

"Do you have a crush on me?"

She felt her face morph into a familiar mask, lax of emotion. She stood up and gripped the handle of her knife. "No."

He gave her a look that showed he thought she was lying.

"Seriously," she said, getting irritated. "I don't. I can't let anything get in the way of my training. Love creates nothing but a mess and I refuse to let it happen." She was returning to the familiarity of not feeling anything. Early in the morning it took a little bit of time for her to return to the proper mindset of a successful career. She felt the slightest sense of relief that Cale had brought the subject up, so she could return to that comfortable, emotionless state.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" He demanded, looking furious.

"I have to go. It's Reaping Day." She started bounding off the rocks when his voice stopped her.

"Are you going to volunteer?"

"Never." She replied, her voice in a state of monotone. She began running back to her Oceanside house, the knife still gripped in her palm.

* * *

"_Please_, tell me you aren't wearing that…_rag_." Marina demanded as she applied eye-shadow in the mirror.

"You wore it once too, Marina." Coralie pointed out to her older sister. Besides, Coralie's mom had worn it to her first Reaping, and Marina to hers.

"Yeah, _once_. It was the biggest mistake ever." She muttered in reply. "This is your third year wearing it in a row. It's disgusting." She gestured to the baggy, grey dress that Coralie was wearing. "You're too small for it, and the shoes don't match."

Marina was correct on both parts. The horrid grey dress hung just below Coralie's knees, she pulled her bleach-white knee socks all the way up, and wore black Mary Jane's to complete the outfit.

"You would look beautiful in one of my dresses. Put on my green halter dress." She suggested. "It looks fabulous on me, it would look somewhat decent on you."

Coralie looked just like Marina did when she was fourteen, right down to the beauty mark on their upper right lip. Except, Coralie was much smaller, and was often mistaken for being twelve.

"No." Coralie replied.

Marina, who had been finishing her makeup, shrugged. "Okay, suit yourself."

* * *

As Coralie stood with her age group for the Reaping she felt eyes on her. She didn't care, it was something that happened so often she was used to it. She always felt a flutter of excitement during the Reapings. Every year she shoved it way down inside her and ignored it. If she was reaped, she was reaped. She wasn't going to volunteer for anybody. Not even Marina, because she knew Marina would never do it for her.

The District Four escort clambered on stage. She was an older woman with wild red hair and too many facial lifts. She showed the video from the Capitol and then drew a name for the female tributes.

"Coralie Alderly!" She exclaimed in a somewhat raspy voice, apparently, she was a smoker.

Coralie smiled, not enough to make people think she was overly excited. She was rather pleased with being reaped. She made her way to the stage, still lightly smiling.

"How old are you dear, twelve?" The woman asked.

"I am fourteen." Coralie said, her voice expressionless.

"Well, Coralie, congratulations!"


	6. District Twelve: Ryan Mellark

**_Okay, guys this is the District Twelve Reaping. There are still spots open and I'm sorry but if you Reviewed the Tributes I ask that you PLEASE _PRIVATE MESSAGE _them to me. That way we can communicate easier involving them. I won't take them unless they are in a _PRIVATE MESSAGE_._**

* * *

_I__n his dream Ryan Mellark was running…more like desperately chasing the girl of his dreams. Her brown hair glinted red in the sunlight, swaying as it hung free. She was always too far ahead of him, because she was the fastest person in their class. It made him sick to his stomach that she didn't even look back at her pursuer, she just kept running, and laughing. She taunted him, and it made his heart ache. _

_The girl stopped abruptly and turned around, like she was looking for somebody. _

_Ryan's heart fluttered in his chest, was she looking at him? He slowed his pace and stopped a few feet short of her. He smiled at her and said, "I've been chasing you for a long time." _

_She didn't acknowledge that she heard him, her hazel eyes swept past him, like he wasn't even there. "Hello?" She called. "I somebody there?" _

_"I'm right here! It's me, Ryan Mellark!" He said, his smile melting off his face. _

_How could she not see him? He was less than two feet away from her! He said her name again, and still no recognition. Then, he was jolted awake by something landing on his chest. _

Ryan grunted and grabbed his stomach. "Jack!" He groaned, rolling over. He met the golden brown eyes of his Kelpie, and reached out and ruffled his fur. "That hurt!"

The dog stared up at him, his gaze unwavering, holding a look of innocence. Jack cocked his head to the side and whined.

Ryan rubbed his brown eyes after he had his feet planted solidly on the wooden floor. He ran a hand through his brown hair and looked around for a pair of available shorts, clean or dirty, it didn't matter.

He settled for a pair of khaki cargo shorts and slipped on his sneakers. "Come on, Jack." He called to his rust-colored dog.

Jack trotted by his master's side, eager to go outside. He practically ran Ryan over to get through the door that lead to the bakery.

"Ryan," Peeta Mellark said to his older son, his blue eyes very unimpressed. "How many times do I have to tell you Jack can't be in here?"

"Sorry, dad." Ryan said swiping a sticky bun off the counter. "I'm taking him to do his business. I'll be back in a bit to help."

Peeta smiled at his only son, "Alright, don't dawdle. Business will be picking up in about an hour."

Ryan nodded between bites of the delicious bun and fumbled with the door handle, his fingers slipped, then, on the second attempted had gotten stuck. He stepped off the bakery porch and polished the bun off by licking his fingers.

He walked towards The Hob, giving a curt whistle to Jack if he strayed too far. Taking Jack into The Hob always was kind of worrisome, but Ryan did it anyway. Sometimes it was hard to tell if Greasy Sae was kidding about turning him into stew or if she was serious.

"Ryan!" Matthew White said walking towards him, a grin stretched across his face. "Your dad finally released you from prison!"

Ryan gave his friend a questioning look. "Prison?"

"Well, he has you working like crazy in the bakery. You never hang out with us anymore!"

"Matt, there's only the two of us." Ryan replied, his hand lightly brushing Jack's short, red fur.

Matt blinked, taken aback. "Matt?" He asked. "You've been friends with Matt and I since we were in the second grade and you _still _can't tell us apart?"

Ryan squinted up at his friend, then shrugged. He grinned at him, "Sorry, Mike."

Mike smiled and elbowed Ryan in the side, "I was just yanking your chain! I'm Matt."

"I knew it!" Ryan exclaimed. "Where is Mike."

Matt paused at a table to trade a ball of yard for necklace beaded with glass. "Right about now, he's looking awfully uncomfortable while Sage Furver flips her perfect hair and flaunts her perfect bod' in front of him."

He found himself smiling again, Sage was definitely hot…but, he was in love with another girl. A girl he met at the same school his dad met his first love. The chances were that she wasn't in The Hob. Even if she was she wouldn't even know he was there, like in his dream.

"Why would he be uncomfortable?" He asked Matt.

"She thinks he's me, for one. Also, you know how he is…socially awkward."

"He's your _twin_, don't you think you should ease up on the hate comments."

"Well, it's true!" Matt said. "He doesn't have the mad flirtation skills as I do." He flexed, the necklace dangling from his left hand.

Ryan rolled his eyes, "Whatever."

They watched as Sage twirled her blonde hair around her pointer finger, her mouth going nonstop, probably not even to breathe.

Mike looked overwhelmed, his eyes were huge, and he was nodding vigorously, causing his dark brown hair to fall in his grey eyes. He looked paler than usual, and more…sweaty.

Ryan felt pity on one of his best friends. Then, and idea came to him. He strode over to Mike and said, "Sorry to interrupt, Sage. Matt will be right back, his brother wants—a—a new potato peeler for their mom and Matt's got all of the money."

He grabbed Mike by his shoulders and steered him away from the blonde, who stared after them with irritation on her face.

Once they were out of eyesight and earshot Ryan said, "Dude, you need to relax."

Mike nodded. "I didn't know what to do! She just kept talking, and talking, and talking!"

"Just sit."

Mike accepted the offer and sat cross-legged on the floor and stroked Jack's fur.

"Now," Ryan turned to Matt, "Go over there, tell her you saw the necklace and thought of her and give it to her."

"It was for my sister!" Matt objected looking at the necklace.

"Would you rather make it with Sage or your sister?"

"You're a genius." Matt said, and walked over to Sage, twirling the necklace on his finger.

He looked at Mike and smiled, "You need to relax more. It's why you don't have a girlfriend."

Mike snorted and rolled his grey eyes, "I don't recall you ever having a girlfriend."

He was right. There was only one girl in his life he would ever be in love with and she didn't even know he existed. Ryan's heart ached painfully at the thought. It was killing him knowing that he was in love with a girl he could never have. The kind of pain that kept him up at night trying to count the tiles in the ceiling. It was hard to explain to somebody who didn't know how it felt. Every time he thought of _Her_ there was a throbbing in his heart and a hollow feeling, promptly followed by depression. He ended up going into the pit of despair with every thought.

Ryan felt himself being sucked into the black hole of sadness that accompanied thinking about the love of his life. He realized he needed to go home. "Are you okay?" He asked Mike.

Mike nodded.

"Okay, come on Jack." He called to his dog.

As they meandered outside he glimpsed at the clock tower (it was the tallest structure in Twelve) and realized he'd been gone for almost an hour! He picked up a light jog and headed for his house, Jack running, not even panting, at his side.

He thundered up the Bakery steps and tossed the door open, his dad was handing Cray Undersee a bag full of sweets. He smiled at his dad and let Jack into the house.

He went behind the counter and washed his hands. "What needs done?" He asked.

"Bake two more loaves of sweet bread, then wash the dishes." Peeta said. He pulled a cake iced in simple vanilla frosting and started piping delicate flowers on the virgin icing.

Ryan did what his dad ordered, kneading the dough with the skill that came from years of practice. He knew the recipe by heart. He set the loaves in the oven and then hurried with the dishes.

"Why are you in such a rush?" His dad asked him.

"Dad, it's Reaping day." Ryan replied vigorously scrubbing at a mixing bowl.

Peeta froze, standing unnaturally still, his hand and frosting bag still expertly poised over the cake. He was like a statue, his skin pale, his body unmoving, his blue eyes distant under his gold framed bifocals.

Ryan knew that his dad played a part in the games all of those years ago, his father never spoke of the horrors he had faced. "Dad," he said, looking for any sign that his dad was back in the bakery with him instead of in the arena. "Dad? It's okay, you're home."

Ryan gently laid his hand on his dad's arm, causing his dad to come back to District Twelve. "Are you okay?" He asked, his brown eyes meeting his dad's blue ones.

"Yes, I'm fine." Peeta said, looking shaken. "Why don't you get ready for the Reaping?"

Ryan nodded and ran a hand through his brown hair. As he walked up the stairs he remembered what his dad had told him when he turned twelve.

Originally, all victors and their families were immune to the Reapings, but Peeta and a girl named Katniss Everdeen had made the Capitol mad. Raging mad. They had planned to kill themselves by eating Nightlock when they were told that there could be two victors, a boy and girl from each district. When Ryan's dad and Katniss had been the only two victors left the Capitol changed the rules back to being only one victor. They thought it was unfair, so they were going to commit suicide, but the Capitol stopped them and crowned both of the victors.

To get back at Peeta and Katniss they revoked the rule that the victors' family and children could not be reaped. Now Ryan had to go to the Reaping every year, he was lucky he hadn't been picked.

He tore off his t-shirt and tossed it on his bed and pulled out his short-sleeved baby blue button down shirt. He realized he was going to be late to check in so he buttoned it on his way out the door, not even bothering to tuck it in.

When he got there he checked in. He stood between the twins and waited for the Reaping to start.

The girl tribute was called and all he could do was stare in mortification as she mounted the steps to the Justice Hall stage. She didn't even look scared! She held her head high and stood up there stoically. He was so busy staring at her he didn't realize what was going on until Matt elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

He was roughly hauled toward the stage by Peacekeepers, not noticing that he was mounting the steps. As he stood next to her he felt an extreme sorrow. He was going to die, and so was she.

In his head he clamped down on that thought. _No._ _I'm going to protect her even if I have to die. I won't let her down. She deserves to live. The girl I love._

* * *

**_So what did you think? If there is anything I need to fix please message me!_**


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